


The Molly Problem

by JustAHobbit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Fred Lives, And doesn't approve of Hermione dating Fred, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Molly Weasley is too overprotective, Romance, and holds a grudge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAHobbit/pseuds/JustAHobbit
Summary: Nearly five years after the end of the war, Hermione and Fred are a couple and very much in love. They finally tell Molly Weasley. She's less than thrilled.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley - Relationship
Comments: 93
Kudos: 375





	1. The Birthday Dinner

The chicken was in the oven, the bread was toasted, and the salad was ready to be tossed. All that Fred was waiting on was for his girlfriend to come home. He heard the door to the flat unlock, open, and shut again.

“Hey Hermione,” Fred called out. “How was work?” Hermione, looking annoyed and weary, dropped her bag and coat on to the floor. A very un-Hermione thing to do. That was all Fred needed to know about how well her day went. “Got it. Would you like your red wine in a glass or shall I just put a straw directly into the bottle?” he asked, holding up the bottle. When the silence stretched out longer than anticipated, Fred looked up in alarm.

“Hermione?” he prodded.

“How serious are you about the straw?” she deadpanned. Fred chuckled.

“I put one of my jumpers in your drawer,” Fred offered, indicating the closed door to his bedroom. Hermione’s eyes lit up. She loved wearing Fred’s jumpers almost as much as Fred loved seeing her in them. In a flash, Hermione disappeared into the room to change. Meanwhile, Fred went to work. He waved his wand and the salad began tossing itself in the bowl. Then he picked up Hermione’s coat and bag from the floor and hung them both up. When Hermione finally emerged from the bedroom wearing Fred’s jumper and a pair of pyjama bottoms, Fred had dressed two plates with dinner and salad, poured two hefty glasses of wine, and set up a pile of blankets for them to cocoon into on the couch. After dinner and another glass of wine later, Hermione was leaning heavily into Fred, her arms around his middle. His left arm was around her shoulders, fingers running through her hair. Music played softly over the wireless.

“Where’s George?” Hermione asked after she had been silent so long, Fred was convinced she’d fallen asleep.

“At Angelina’s,” Fred answered. “They’ve actually been thinking about looking for a flat together.” Hermione gave a little hum in response. “Should we look for a flat? The two of us, I mean.”

Hermione shook her head. “We’ve only been dating five months. It’s too soon to think about moving in together.”

“Five months, one week, and five days,” Fred corrected.

Hermione turned her head to look up at him. “You keep track that closely?”

“Of course!” Fred tapped his temple. “I have an excellent memory, you know.” Hermione looked skeptical.

“And where, pray tell,” Hermione said as she sat up, “was this excellent memory when I asked you to wash the towels? Defrost the chicken? Stop by my flat on your day off and refill Crookshank’s water bowl?”

Fred looked affronted. Crossing his arms, he said “Well, _obviously,_ you’ve been leeching it off of me like a memory-sucking dementor. We should repurpose the old DA coins for just the two of us. Then we can remind each other of things. ‘Fred, please pick up some sugar,’ or ‘Hermione, can I borrow that book.’ Hell, if you wanted to send a message that said ‘Hey Fred, you arse looked fantastic in the shower this morning,’ that’d be a wonderful use of the coins.” Hermione swatted half-heartedly at Fred’s chest.

“Incorrigible,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely incorrigible.” She leaned in and kissed her boyfriend. “But it’s really sweet that you remember that.”

“Yes, I know,” Fred bragged slinging an arm around her again. Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Not to put a dampener on your good mood, but I think it’s about time we told mum that we’re dating.” Hermione stiffened underneath him. “It _has_ been five months, one week, five days, and…” Fred began to raise up his arm to look at his wristwatch. Hermione pulled at his arm so both were wrapped around her.

“Your mother _hates_ me,” Hermione mumbled into Fred’s chest. “Telling her we’re dating is only going to make her hate me _more_.”

“Or, and I know this is a completely mental idea, she might be happy that her favourite and best looking child is in a happy, healthy relationship with the beautiful and intelligent Hermione Granger,” Fred countered. Hermione scoffed.

“The same Hermione Granger who broke her baby son’s heart,” she reminded Fred. “It doesn’t matter that we only dated six weeks and we mutually ended things almost five years ago now. I still toyed with Ron’s feelings in her eyes.”

Fred shrugged. “Yeah, but, four of those weeks were attending funerals,” he reminded her.

Hermione nodded. “And the last two were genuinely attempting a few awkward dates before we decided that we were better as friends. Do you know what she’s sent me for Christmas for the past couple of years?” Hermione sat up and pushed away so she could look Fred directly in the eyes. “Year one: knitted potholders. Potholders with big enough holes in them that I would have gotten burnt if I had tried to use them. Year two: mittens that had mostly fallen apart by the time they had gotten to me. Year three: a pair of socks.”

“What was wrong with the socks?”

“Nothing. Except I would have needed to be turned into a baby to fit into them. And grown a couple of extra toes. Year four: I got potholders again. That might have had something to do with Ron’s girlfriend at the time, now that I think of it.”

Fred shuddered. “Oh, yeah, she was a nightmare.”

“So just imagine her reaction if we told her we were seeing each other,” Hermione groaned. She buried her face into a pillow. Fred began to card his fingers through her hair again.

“Mothers, as I understand it, are very protective of their children,” Fred told her, “and I know my mum has been judging you too harshly for your serious lapse in judgment five years ago. Ouch!” he complained when Hermione pinched his side. “But I have no plans on abandoning this relationship any time soon. I’m sorry to say that you are absolutely stuck with me. No, seriously, I performed a nonverbal sticking charm while you were distracted.” He was rewarded with a snort from Hermione. “So mum’s just going to have to get used to having you around at family dinners, holidays, birthday parties, et cetera and all that. But she can’t get used to it unless we get around to telling her.”

Hermione took several big, deep breaths. Fred felt some of the tension slowly leave her body. “Fine,” she groaned. “But I want a little more time to keep this to ourselves before we tell your mum.”

“Of course,” Fred agreed instantly. “How much more time?”

“A hundred years.”

_“Hermione.”_

“What? A century seems reasonable to me.”

“We’re telling her and dad at mine and George’s birthday dinner next weekend,” Fred said firmly. “The whole family will be there and they can draw fire away from us if necessary.”

“Fine,” she agreed begrudgingly. “But if she gets to be too much, we’re leaving.”

* * *

Molly Weasley looked like she had sucked a moldy lemon before she recovered and plastered on a tight smile. “Hermione! You’re…here.” Arthur Weasley had the decency to look apologetic for his wife’s less-than-enthusiastic greeting.

Almost every Weasley was in on the secret that Fred and Hermione were dating. George (and by default Angelina) had known nearly right from the start. Ginny and Harry knew not long after. Hermione had told Ron over a coffee one afternoon about a month into hers and Fred’s relationship. She was worried that it would be awkward, Ron would be upset, and their friendship would be ruined forever.

“I’m dating your brother,” Hermione had finally blurted out.

Ron took a sip of his coffee before asking, deadpan “Which one?”

The talk went pretty smoothly after that.

Bill found out when he walked into the stock room at the shop and Hermione and Fred hastily sprang apart. They were unsuccessful in hiding their flushed faces, swollen lips, and mussed clothes. George (who had prompted Bill to go into the back for his own amusement) couldn’t keep the grin off his face for a week. So of course, Fleur knew about it, too. How could she not when Bill had been groaning “My eyes! My _eyes!_ ” as he burst through the door of Shell Cottage?

Percy had, to his chagrin, walked into a pub with his date when Hermione and Fred were sharing some fish and chips and playing footsie under the table.

But all of them knew not to tell Molly and Arthur.

Fred’s smile grew a little tight. “Yes, mum, I said I was bringing her.” Mrs. Weasley made a little _“hm”_ noise before disappearing into the kitchen. Mr. Weasley stepped forward and clapped a hand to Hermione’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again, Hermione,” he said sincerely. “Come on, I’ll pour you a drink! We don’t see nearly enough of each other at the Ministry. How’s…” He steered Hermione off to get her a drink. Fred sank down on to the couch next to George, absentmindedly watching Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Fleur playing a card game on the floor. Victoire was coloring with Percy in the corner and Dominique was snoozing on Bill’s chest. It was a peaceful scene. Normally, Fred would be all for disrupting a peaceful scene and plunging it into chaos. But mum had been unfair toward Hermione and he really wanted tonight to go well.

“Are you sure about telling mum?” George asked. “It’s not like she’ll believe you anyway.”

Fred had thought about that possibility already. “She’d be less likely to believe me if I told her on Tuesday-our actual birthday-instead of today.”

Angelina, on the other side of George, shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just know that there is some betting going on.”

There was another awkward moment when Mrs. Weasley announced dinner ready and tried to direct Hermione to sit next to Percy-away from Fred.

“She already said she wanted to sit next to me, mum,” Fred insisted. After they sat down at last, Hermione squeezed his hand underneath the table.

All was going perfectly fine until Mrs. Weasley asked Percy if he knew any single women in his department to set up Fred with.

“That won’t be necessary, mum,” Fred interrupted.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “Fred you’re twenty-five. Everyone else here is in a committed, adult relationship. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, too.”

Ron frowned. “Ahm no’,” he said around his mouth full of food.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her youngest son. “Well, dear, you’re only twenty-three. You have time,” she assured him. Percy stared stonily down at his plate. It seemed his mother had _not_ gotten the memo about his recent breakup.

Fred linked his fingers through Hermione’s underneath the table and rubbed circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. He felt some of the tension leave Hermione. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Surely someone here has to know _somebody_ who would be good for Fred,” Mrs. Weasley said exasperatedly. Ginny coughed suspiciously and kept her mouth hidden behind her napkin.

“I don’ think my girlfriend would like it very much if I went out on a date with someone else,” Fred said nonchalantly. A hush fell over the table. Eyes bounced back and forth between Fred to Mrs. Weasley to Mr. Weasley and then back to Fred again. He indicated Hermione. “Meet my girlfriend. You all know Hermione, yeah?”

The awkward silence stretched out. “That is _brand new_ information!” Harry exclaimed in an effort to break the tension. Fred and George rolled their eyes at each other. This man was an Auror. An _Auror._

Everyone leaned forward, holding their breath, waiting to see the reaction of both Weasley parents. Breaking the awkward tension, Mr. Weasley was the first to speak up.

“Are you _really?_ ” he exclaimed. Well, at least he sounded happy about it. “Oh, I _knew_ something was going on with you, Fred. I didn’t know what, but you seemed different. I thought it might’ve been a woman. Of course I couldn’t be _sure_ it was a woman. With how long you’d gone without mentioning anyone, I didn’t want to assume anything…” George’s snicker cut off into a grunt when Fred elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, that is _fantastic!_ How long has this been going on?”

“Five months,” Fred replied. He brought up his and Hermione’s joined hands on to the table. This felt nice. This was going well so far. “We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while, but with almost everyone else at this table knowing, we thought it was past time to tell you.”

Mr. Weasley was nearly vibrating with excitement. His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “Oh, this is wonderful! I always thought you two balanced each other out. This is quite a surprise, isn’t it?”

The whole table jumped when Mrs. Weasley slammed her silverware down on the table. Dominique jerked in Bill’s arms at the noise. “Mum!” Ron and Percy hissed in a low voice.

“Honestly, Fred. I’m not going to fall for any of your tricks on today of all days. The only surprise here is that you somehow manipulated Hermione into going along with your shenanigans.” She turned to Hermione and shook her head sadly. “I expected better of you, Hermione. Playing a trick like this at your age? Honestly.”

Dinner was rather awkward after that.

Angelina, George, Ginny, Harry, and Ron all won the bet.

* * *

“Playing a trick like this at my age?” Hermione echoed later that night as she stared up at Fred’s bedroom ceiling. “She makes it sound like I’m geriatric. I’m only twenty-three!”

“And a half!” Fred mumbled around his toothbrush from the bathroom. Hermione turned to glare at the open door.

“You know, when you keep track of how long we’ve been dating, it’s rather endearing. But if you start keeping exact track of my age when _you’re_ a quarter of a century old-”

She heard Fred finish rinsing his mouth out before he padded out of the bathroom. “Sorry.” He crawled underneath the covers and turned on his side to face Hermione. “I’ll fix this, okay? I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her.

“I don’t know how,” Hermione muttered, still staring at the ceiling. “She thinks our relationship is a joke.”

“Five months and two weeks is quite a long commitment to a joke. Even for two people such as ourselves with unwavering determination and amazing stamina.” Hermione didn’t have to look to see the suggestive, mischievous look in Fred’s eyes.

“Five months, two weeks, and one day,” Hermione corrected, smiling in spite of herself. “It’s after midnight.”

“Is it really?” Fred leaned over her to get a look at the clock. “No wonder I’m knackered!”

“The alcohol might have helped with that some, you old man.” Hermione turned and buried her face in Fred’s chest, snaking an arm around his middle. “Love you,” she mumbled.

Fred held her a little tighter. For his own comfort as well as hers. “I love you, too.” Hermione was asleep before Fred managed to turn off the bedside lamp.


	2. The Potter-Weasley Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny's wedding approaches while Fred and Hermione discuss moving in together.

Fred’s first stop in Operation Fix It was to Ron and Harry’s office on the following Monday morning.

“You _have_ to talk to mum,” Fred told Ron. “She’s been making Hermione miserable since the two of you broke up.”

“I _have_ talked to her,” Ron insisted. “Several times, actually. It goes in one ear and out the other. Ginny’s talked to her. Bill’s talked to her. Hell, even _Percy_ gave it a go.”

That was a surprise. “What? Percy-he- _really?_ ” Even though Percy had definitely done the talking on behalf of Hermione, Fred felt oddly touched by the gesture.

Ron nodded. “Yup. But mum’s being stubborn.” He took a large gulp of his tea. “I think mum was waiting for seven years of ‘will they, won’t they’ with Hermione and me. I told you I shouldn’t have mentioned her in that letter home back in our first year,” Ron said aside to Harry, as if it was the other boy’s fault they were in this predicament. “Best case scenario: it takes mum just as many years to get over it and she’ll warm up to Hermione in two more years. But then there’s the Elsie issue.”

Harry looked up from his papers to give Ron a murderous look. There was a rule about mentioning Ron’s ex-girlfriend. “We agreed never to speak that woman’s name in here again!” Ron threw up his hands in frustration.

“Yes! I get it, alright? I have terrible taste in women. Every woman I have ever dated has been an absolute nightmare!” Ron paled at the look on Fred’s face. “Except for one Hermione Jean Granger who was absolutely lovely but the timing was horrible and we amicably parted ways as friends and I never deserved her in the first place,” he rushed to add. “But my last attempted relationship may have reset mum’s timer. So Hermione has to wait six years again.”

“Maybe Harry could talk to her?” Fred suggested. “She likes him better than most of her own children.” Ron opened his mouth as if to protest, thought about it, then reluctantly agreed with Fred.

“Sorry, mate, but she doesn’t like me much these days,” Harry admitted. “I’m marrying her baby and her only daughter. But for Hermione and for you, I will try and talk to her for you.”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Fred told him as he made his way to the door, “just give mum another grandchild and she’ll love you again.” Harry and Ron spit out their tea.

* * *

Keeping Hermione and his mother apart leading up to Harry and Ginny’s wedding was pivotal, in Fred’s opinion, to keeping his girlfriend happy. Double dates with George and Angelina became as much a part of their routine as helping Harry and Ginny moving into their new flat and babysitting for Fleur and Bill.

“And after _two_ bed time stories and accidentally falling asleep for a bit there, Uncle Fred has successfully gotten the first Weasley grandchild to go to sleep,” Fred whispered triumphantly. Hermione smiled at him from over the top of Dominique’s head. Fred sank down on to the couch next to them. “It looks like Aunt Hermione’s done well, too.”

Hermione leaned into Fred when he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Not Aunt Hermione. Not technically,” she corrected.

“Details,” Fred said offhandedly. He hesitated for a moment before asking “Would you ever like to be? Aunt Hermione, I mean. This is all hypothetical,” Fred rushed to add when Hermione stiffened. “If I did ask you that all important question, I’d hope I would have the sense not to do it when you have the ticking dungbomb sitting on your chest.”

“That’s no way to talk about your niece!” Hermione admonished. But the tension eased out of her. “Well…hypothetically speaking, I might not mind becoming an official aunt. One day.”

“You might not mind?” Fred teased. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Despite the hypothetical nature of your question, you obviously want to know how I feel about marriage. More specifically, marriage to _you_ ,” Hermione prodded.

Fred shifted. “Well…I might not mind it either. Being married to you, that is,” he said. “I love you, I want to be with you. Forever if you’ll have me. And when _you’re_ ready for me to ask, just say the word. Or you can ask me. I’m a modern man, after all. But it better be romantic. I’m demanding candles, roses, a live mariachi band, fireworks; basically everything I’ve dreamed about since I was a little boy.”

Hermione stifled her laughter, trying not to laugh and jostle Dominique “I love you, too, you dramatic man.” She kissed his shoulder, not being able to reach anything else in her current position. “I’d like being married to you, too,” she admitted. Fred beamed at that.

“Of course, we’ll be the only married couple that maintains separate residences since you _still_ refuse to move in with me,” Fred reminded her. Hermione snorted.

“Stop making me laugh,” Hermione warned. “I’ll wake Dominique.” Gingerly, Fred transferred Dominique out of Hermione’s arms and carried her off to her crib. “Where would we live if we moved in together?” Hermione asked when Fred returned, sans infant. “I do love your flat over the shop but it might be a little snug.”

“Every bit of that sentence was a lie,” Fred accused as he uncorked a bottle of wine. “Except for the part about it being snug. But I prefer the term _cozy_.” He summoned two wine glasses and poured a glass for both of them.

“And you don’t like my flat,” Hermione continued. She took her glass from Fred, who sat back down next to her and put his free arm around her shoulder.

“I think I’m going to like it a lot better now that Ginny’s moving out. The only thing more awkward than your sister catching you leaving your girlfriend’s room in the morning is catching your sister’s boyfriend sneaking out of said sister’s room in the morning.”

“Well at least you’ve stopped terrorizing Harry over that,” Hermione said, patting his leg. “He’ll be your brother in law in a few weeks. Unless you’re planning on doing that patronizing ‘if you don’t treat my sister right, I’ll kill you’ nonsense.”

Fred shook his head. “Nah. If he mistreats Ginny, she’ll take care of him herself. Does all this talk of moving in together mean you’ve reconsidered the idea?” He sounded hopeful.

“I’ve never said ‘absolutely not’ to moving in together. I’ve never said ‘never.’ I only said that it was too soon,” said Hermione.

“You’re dodging the question,” Fred accused.

“Try asking me again some time after the wedding,” Hermione compromised. “Maybe my answer will have changed.”

* * *

At some point between the birthday dinner and Harry and Ginny’s June wedding, Mrs. Weasley finally believed that Fred and Hermione were dating. It had taken her husband, all of her children, Fleur, Angelina, and Harry constantly insisting that the story was true before she _reluctantly_ admitted that it was _maybe_ possible that Fred and Hermione _might_ have some sort of romantic _entanglement_ or another.

“She makes it sound like we’re only sleeping together,” Hermione had said, annoyed.

“Oh, don’t let mum hear you say that,” Fred warned. “She’ll be furious if she finds out you took my virtue.”

Fred could only keep his mother and his girlfriend apart for so long, and with the wedding so close, it was an impossibility. Hermione was in the wedding party, along with Luna. It was originally going to be just Ron and Hermione in the wedding party, but considering their past relationship, it was deemed “too awkward” by many. Fred, who had never been jealous over their past relationship, had still felt a little uneasy when people kept pairing them together in the wedding planning like they were with Ginny and Harry. Ron-and-Hermione-and-Ginny-and-Harry. Neville and Luna were added in and that was one problem taken care of.

The day of the wedding finally arrived. Harry’s initial wish for a small, quiet wedding, was not happening. There were too many Weasleys and too many friends who wanted to see the wedding happen. Of course, there were plenty of people who wanted to gatecrash, too. It wasn’t every day The Boy Who Lived got married. There was a strict security check just to get into the wedding.

“Blimey,” George complained. “It’d be easier to get into the Ministry than this wedding!” He clapped a hand on Fred’s shoulder. “I’m going to steal the idea you had for your wedding. When I get married, there’ll be none of this fuss. Everyone can show up in their pyjamas for all I care. The vows will take less than a minute and then we’ll all go get drunk in the seediest pub we can find.”

“I’m sorry. You’re going to do _what_ for our wedding?” Angelina asked. George gulped. He thought she would still be caught up in security.

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” George placated. He leaned down to kiss her. Fred snickered. Angelina whirled on him.

“Oh, I’m not done with you, sir,” she warned him. “If that’s the wedding you plan on giving Hermione one day, we’re going to have _words_.”

They took seats their seats next to Percy, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur. Dominique was taking the opportunity of a rare visit from her Uncle Charlie to ask him a thousand and one questions about dragons, all of which Charlie was only too happy to answer. Bill held Dominique, ready for a quick exit in case she became too fussy.

The wedding went off without any horrible disasters. Ginny looked rather lovely in her dress, Harry was anxious-looking up until Ginny walked down the aisle, and Mr. Weasley was a blubbering mess, of course. Fred, of course, was focused on Hermione. The pale green, shimmery dress looked absolutely stunning on her. Her eyes caught his a few times during the ceremony and the look in her eyes made butterflies burst in Fred’s stomach.

Hermione found Fred as he was turning away from the bar with two drinks. If he was about to be roped into a thousand pictures before he could get to the actual fun part of the evening, he was going to need some alcohol in his system. And since he was the world’s greatest boyfriend, he had gotten a drink for his girlfriend as well. Hermione, however, had different ideas. She took the first drink, downed it in the blink of an eye, then took the second drink from Fred’s hands and downed that as well.

“Hermione?” Fred said, confused and a little miffed because he was looking forward to that drink. He was worried as well. There had to be something wrong. Hermione was one to savour a drink over a meal or a good book, not to just empty it down the hatch.

“I just spent an entire day with your mother and her backhanded compliments,” Hermione explained. “Trust me, I needed that more than you.”

Fred quickly got another drink for himself and water for Hermione. “What has she been saying to you?” he asked. All Fred got was a head shake.

“I’ll tell you later,” Hermione promised. “Ginny put a stop to it, but I’ll get upset if I start talking about it and I need to look happy and smiling for the photos.” She sighed and then smiled up at him. “How do I look?”

“You look like if we don’t get back to take our pictures, I might end up messing up your entire ensemble,” Fred teased. Hermione gave him a sultry smirk that was no doubt fueled by the two drinks slowly making their way through her system.

“I’ll let you do that later tonight,” she promised. She walked away from him, giving her hips a little sashay. Fred threw his drink back and followed her, staring very intently at the zipper on the back of her dress.

* * *

Hermione had gotten out of the wedding pictures far sooner than Fred had, seeing as he was obligated to take pictures with his very extended family, so he was eager to get back to her for the food, the toasts, and the dancing.

No sooner had he taken more than ten steps away from the photographer than Fred was intercepted by his mother.

“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “I’m so happy to have caught you dear.” She fussed with the lapels of his dress robes and his tie. “Don’t you look handsome as ever?” She clasped her hand around Fred’s arm and started dragging him off. “You would not _believe_ who I’ve just come across. None other than _Abigail Fletcher_.” With her free arm she gestured to a young witch.

“Who?” Fred asked. The smile on the witch froze in place for a moment before she brushed off the rudeness. She tucked a strand of her wavy, honey blonde hair behind her ear, revealing multiple piercings.

“It’s alright,” she said amiably. “We didn’t interact much in school-I was a year ahead of you-and last time my family visited yours …you set my dress on fire.”

Fred’s eyes widened. He remembered her now. In his defense, he had been seven at the time. “Oh! I am sorry about that. I would say that I’ve grown out of that but I own a joke shop with my brother, so maybe not.”

Abigail smoothed out the wrinkles in her lavender dress. “Well, so long as you don’t light this one on fire. It was rather expensive.”

Fred nodded, turned to say something to his mother, only to realize she wasn’t there. Well, she was the mother of the bride, after all. She probably had a busy night ahead of her.

“I hate to be rude and leave so soon, but I wanted to find my girlfriend before the toasts,” said Fred. Abigail’s smile fell for just a moment before she restored it.

“Oh! Your mother spent so much time talking about how successful you are, she forgot to mention your girlfriend. Who is she?” she asked amiably.

“Hermione Granger. She was in the wedding party,” Fred explained. “I wanted to make sure she got some food in her.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you,” Abigail said sincerely. “Go find your girlfriend. I’ll try and stop by your shop next time I’m in Diagon Alley.”

Hermione had managed to knick some food when Fred had found her. She was deep in conversation with Ginny, Harry, Ron, George, Angelina, and Neville. Ginny was stealing bites of food off of the small plate Hermione managed to procure.

“I’m actually thinking of hyphenating,” Ginny was saying as Fred approached.

“Don’t worry, Gin. I know what to do,” Fred assured her. “Put your head between your knees.” Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.

“ _Hyphenate_ not _hyperventilate_ ,” she corrected. “Ginny was saying what she was planning on doing with her surname.”

Ginny exchanged a look with her brother before asking the group “What do you think? Potter-Weasley or Weasley-Potter?”

Neville tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I’m almost certain Potter-Weasley was the order Harry and Ron had their names yelled any time they got up to something.”

“So every other week?” said Ron.

Fred and George scoffed simultaneously. “Pfft! _Amateurs!_ ”

Angelina was the next one to speak up. “I think you should do Weasley-Potter. You were a Weasley first and this poor sod is lucky you gave him the time of day.”

“Should I change my surname as well?” Harry wondered aloud.

Ron almost choked on his drink. “Are you mental? You can’t change your last name! They’d have to print new Chocolate Frog cards!”

Hermione giggled at Ron’s priorities.

“Or by changing your surname, you could make the originals highly valuable collectibles.” Neville reasoned. Harry and Ron’s faces lit up at the idea.

Mrs. Weasley next cornered her fourth son as he was exiting the bathrooms later that evening. “ _There_ you are!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where on earth have you been?”

Fred looked between his mother and the bathroom door. “I’m afraid that’s private business, mum.”

Mrs. Weasley gripped her son’s arm and steered him through the throngs of people. “Oh, never mind that. I was just speaking to someone and I wanted you to meet. You have _so_ much in common.”

Warning bells were going off in Fred’s head, but for what, he didn’t know. They halted in front of a dark-haired witch in a sari, standing against a wall and looking rather bored. “Fred, I’d like you to meet Audrey Bhatt,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Audrey, this is Fred, my son who I was telling you about.” Fred turned to ask his mother exactly what was going on, but she had disappeared again. _How_ was she moving so fast?

“I’d wondered which son she was talking about,” Audrey said. “There are so many of you. I think I’ve seen one of you at work. Are you the one that works in the Ministry?”

“Oh, _no,_ ” Fred said quickly. “No, not at all. That’s Percy.”

“What about me?” said a voice to Fred’s right. Percy had just turned away from the bar, drink in hand. Fred grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him over.

“Audrey, Percy. Percy, Audrey,” he introduced. “Have fun.”

Fred, despite his grades at Hogwarts, was not a stupid man. He knew his mother was up to something, but he didn’t want to outright accuse her. Besides, he had no evidence.

That was until Contestant Number Three strolled up to Fred while he was speaking with Ginny and Harry. Her name was Imogene Parker, she was a healer at St. Mungo’s, and she was a lesbian.

“Congratulations?” Fred said, unsure of what to say at that last revelation.

Imogene shrugged. “Your mother had her heart set on the two of us hitting it off. I couldn’t really get a word in edgewise with her and I didn’t want to lead you on.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny interrupted. She looked all smiles and pleasantries, but there was something crackling beneath the surface. “My mother has been trying to play matchmaker with my brother?”

“Oh, yes, she has,” Imogene confirmed. Fred gripped the drink in his hands a little tighter. “I’m not the only one apparently.”

“Well, I’m not available, I’m sorry to say,” Fred said. “It wouldn’t work out with us anyway what with my…” he gestured downward and then trailed off, aware that he had made things awkward by referencing his genitals in front of his sister and brother-in-law. He was saved by catching sight of someone familiar across the ballroom. “I did meet someone earlier that would be perfect for you. Black dress, blonde hair, multiple piercings. Of course, I’m not sure if she likes girls to be perfectly honest.”

Imogene caught sight of Abigail and smiled. “I think I’ll try my luck,” she decided and walked away from the group. Fred turned to Ginny, frowning.

“Did you know about any of this? Ginny? Harry?” Harry shook his head. Ginny scowled.

“She mentioned it weeks ago,” Ginny admitted. “I thought she was joking at first but when she kept being insistent, I told her that if she tried that, I’d kill her. And now I have to kill my mother. At my own wedding.” She procured her wand from inside her sleeve. “I suppose it’s a boring wedding without a matricide. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Ginny. Darling,” Harry pleaded as Ginny took a few steps forward. He wrapped an arm around her waist. Far away, the gesture looked sweet. Up close, it was a preventative measure against murder. “You can’t murder your mother at our wedding.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Ginny hissed. “I will hex you, too, Harry. You know I will!”

“Harry and Ron will have to arrest you,” Fred pointed out. “There are too many witnesses.”

“It’d make your father sad,” Harry added when Ginny still seemed determined to kill. She relaxed in his grip.

“Fine. I won’t kill mum, but she is in time out until I say she’s not,” Ginny said firmly. “And don’t tell Hermione about this. Mum was already horrible enough to her before the wedding.”

Fred couldn’t agree more, but he was more curious than ever to know what his mother had been saying.

“Go get your girlfriend and get out of here,” Harry said. “No, no, it’s fine. We don’t care,” he insisted when Fred was about to protest. “Just go.”

* * *

A few hours later, Fred was tracing the pattern of freckles across Hermione’s bare shoulders with his fingertips. She shifted closer into his touch, sighing contentedly.

“Nice wedding,” Hermione commented. Fred nodded in agreement.

“Is Ginny really going to hyphenate her name?” he asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s her name. She can do what she wants with it. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred deflected. “Just-Hermione Granger is a great name.”

“So if we got married, you don’t want me to change my surname to Weasley?” Hermione guessed. There was a bit of a teasing tone to her voice. She rolled from her stomach to her side so she was facing her boyfriend.

“No, I’m saying that I want to change my name to Granger.”

“You can’t do that!” Hermione protested. “The Weasley name is _literally_ on the building. Besides, the whole alliteration business name is ninety percent of the reason I agreed to go on a date with you in the first place.”

Fred looked offended. “I feel so used.” Hermione snorts, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “Does this mean I have to stop writing ‘Mr. Hermione Granger’ in my diary?”

“You’re free to write whatever you want in your diary,” Hermione indulged. “Are you serious about the name?”

“About changing my name? No, not really. You’re right about the alliteration,” Fred conceded. ‘Besides ‘Weasley’s and Granger’s Wizard Wheezes’ would take up too much room on the business cards.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you have business cards?” Fred snapped his fingers.

“Damn! _That’s_ what George and I forgot to order.”

“And you don’t want me changing my name?” Hermione continued to prod.

“It’s _your_ name, love,” Fred reminded her. “You can take mine, keep yours, hyphenate, or combine the names to make up a completely new name. You do what you want and I’ll support you.” He paused. “So how soon after the wedding is too soon to ask you if you want to move in with me?”

Hermione smiled knowingly. “You’ve been waiting to ask that question all day, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been waiting to ask that question since the last time we talked about it,” Fred corrected. “Do you have any opinions on the matter? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you have opinions. You’ve probably listed all the pros and cons in one of your notebooks somewhere.”

“Don’t mock my pro/con lists,” Hermione warned.

“I’m not. This time, I imagine the list goes something like ‘Pros- I get to live with the light of my life. Cons-absolutely none.’ Wait, that’s _my_ pro/con list for living with _you._ ”

Hermione laughed. “Alright, I’ve thought about it. A lot, actually,” she admitted. “I think with how busy the shop gets during the summer, we should wait until after the first of September to start planning moving in together. I also think I should just move in here.”

Fred sat up in surprise. “But you said you hated this flat.”

“I never said I hated it,” Hermione insisted. “Alright, I might not have liked it too much in the beginning, but it’s grown on me.” She sat up in bed, too, which made the sheets pool around her hips-something Fred was _very_ appreciative of. Hermione hugged a pillow to her torso, knowing how easily distracted her boyfriend could get.

“It’s closer to _both_ of our jobs, most of my things are here anyway, and George and Angelina are going to find a flat any day now. I think it’s perfect first place for us to move into.”

Fred pressed a kiss to Hermione’s shoulder. “I have money put away, you know. I could buy you a house. A house anywhere you’d like. You’d have your own library. I’d have my own workshop. I could put one of those hammocks in the back garden for you to read in when the weather’s warmed up.”

Hermione rested her warm hand against Fred’s cheek. Her thumb stroked the slight stubble coming in. “A house sounds lovely. But I think I like the idea of us in this flat for a little while before we settle down in a house. A house that I would like to help pay for.”

Fred nodded, consenting to this condition. “So...just to be clear. I’ll be helping you move in here come September?”

In answer, Hermione kissed him. Fred broke the kiss to ask her one more thing.

“So if the alliteration of my business is ninety percent of the reason you agreed to date me, what’s the other ten percent?” he asked with waggling eyebrows. Hermione hit him with the pillow.


	3. The Christmas Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions flare at another Burrow Christmas. A secret is revealed.

The door to the flat cracked open the next day as Fred was taking a bite of toast.

“Fred, Hermione!” George called out. “Angelina and I are coming in. Don’t be naked.”

“Sorry, Georgie,” Fred apologized. “It’s Naked Pancake Day. I’m not putting on pants just to make you feel comfortable.” Angelina rolled her eyes as she pushed her way past George and into the flat. “What if Hermione and I had actually been naked in here?” Fred demanded.

Angelina snorted. “I know Hermione wouldn’t be.” She helped herself to some coffee and poured George a cup as well. “And, well, if you’ve seen one twin naked-”

“I have not had enough coffee for you to finish that sentence, love,” George interrupted.

“Besides, Naked Pancake Day is on Thursdays,” Hermione jested. “So Fred tells me that your mother was trying to play matchmaker at the wedding?”

George groaned into his coffee. “Fred gave me an abridged version of what was happening before you two left. I’m starting to think we might have been adopted. It would explain so much.”

“Luna said she was being cruel to Hermione while everyone was getting ready for the day,” Angelina added. “She’s never been one for subtlety, that Luna.”

Fred covered Hermione’s hand with his own and squeezed. He had carefully avoided the topic and hadn’t asked her what his mother had said, not wanting Hermione to get upset. That didn’t mean that Fred wasn’t curious to find out what had been said.

“You don’t have to-” Fred began but Hermione waved his hand away.

“She was saying things the whole day along the lines of ‘oh, the hairdresser didn’t take nearly as long on your hair as I thought they would’ and ‘Maybe you should try smiling with a closed mouth in the pictures instead’ and my personal favorite ‘Oh, the dress fits wonderfully, dear. So glad they found time to let it out some!’”

Fred was trying his best not to apparate over to the Burrow and shout at his mother. She had hit on Hermione’s two biggest insecurities from childhood-her teeth and her hair. As for the dress, Hermione had actually needed the dress taken in a bit. Now that he thought about it, the weight loss seemed to have begun not long after they finally told his parents about their relationship.

Hermione touched the back of Fred’s hand. Only then did he realize he was clutching a knife so hard, his veins were popping out. He didn’t remember picking up the knife. Fred relaxed and set the knife back on the table.

“What happened after we left?” he asked, trying to make it sound casual.

George and Angelina filled Fred in on what happened after he and Hermione had made their departure. Harry and George had gotten word around to the rest of the Weasley children what their mother had been up to and did their best to distract her from Fred’s absence. It had all been going fine until Mrs. Weasley had excused herself to the loo and walked in on two of the women she had tried to entice Fred with snogging by the sinks. Then when she had stormed back into the party to find Fred, she saw Percy slow dancing with Audrey.

“I made that happen!” Fred realized. “ _I’m_ the matchmaker!” George and Angelina exchanged a look that said they did _not_ believe him. “I’ll explain later,” he added to Hermione’s confused look.

“Anyway,” Angelina continued. “Your mum was starting to get worked up about you leaving your sister’s wedding and was starting to play around with the idea of apparating to your flat and dragging you back.”

Fred’s mind flashed back to last night when Hermione was doing that thing with her tongue and blanched. Hermione must have been thinking something similar based on the color of her cheeks. Angelina snickered into her coffee.

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “I assumed someone stopped her,” Fred said, his voice pitching higher.

“Yeah. Dad talked her down,” George assured him. “Ginny’s not talking to her. Bill and Charlie aren’t happy either. Percy was too busy with his date to notice anything going on, but he likes Hermione so once he’s caught up on events, he’ll be quite cross. Ron and Harry are trying to be neutral peacekeepers, I think.”

“I don’t want people not speaking to their mother because of me,” Hermione protested weakly. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

“First of all, we’re not speaking to her because she’s being an absolute cow-Ginny’s words, not mine,” George clarified. “Second, Fred and I _love_ trouble. Why do you think we landed in detention so much?”

“Apathy towards authority figures?” Hermione guessed.

“Tardiness,” Angelina added.

“Talking back.”

“Skipping class.”

“Theft of Hogwarts property.”

“The point is,” Fred interrupted, “you have done nothing wrong. My mum is the one who is hurting you. Face it, Granger. We like you. You’re stuck with us forever.”

“What a terrifying prospect,” Hermione joked, a sly smile on her face.

Angelina finished the rest of her coffee in one gulp. “I was going out into Muggle London to get a few things. Did you want to come with me, Hermione?”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I just need to brush my teeth. What will you two get up to while we’re gone?” she asked, addressing the twins over her shoulder.

“We can’t come with you?” George asked, sounding offended.

“We _can’t_ go with them. Not that we wouldn’t love to,” Fred added. “But George and I have to go over the books today. It’s not all fun and games running a joke shop, you know.”

“But we always make it into one,” said George. “It’s called ‘the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get a drink.’”

“We tried doing the books drunk once,” Fred reminisced. “Not as fun as you think it would be.”

Angelina rolled her eyes. “George told me they were going over the books today,” she said to Hermione when she emerged from the bathroom, “but based on the lump in his pocket, I suspect that ‘the books’ were just an excuse to get Fred’s opinion on the ring he got for me.”

George froze and then laughed nervously. “Ha ha, why would you think that? Fred and I always go over the books this time of the month and there’s nothing abnormal about us doing it at all.”

Hermione and Angelina gave each other a disbelieving look, then giggled. They kissed their respective boyfriends goodbye, then left the flat.

George waited a full two minutes until they were gone before he spoke. “Well, I think my acting threw them off,” he said confidently. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a ring box and slid it across the table to Fred. “What do you think?”

Fred flipped open the box. The center diamond glistened-large but not overly ornate. Tiny stones went part way around the rose gold band on either side. It was equal parts simple and elegant.

“It looks great!” Fred finally said. “You didn’t have any trouble picking it up?”

“Of course not,” George assured his twin. “Now that I’ve given you Hermione’s ring, do you mind if I get Angelina’s?”

Fred nodded and retrieved Angelina’s ring from its hiding place in George’s room-the room he hardly slept in anymore since he spent most of his nights at Angelina’s. Hermione’s ring was put in its place. He’d have to find a new hiding place once Hermione moved in. Maybe Harry and Ginny would be willing to stash it away for him.

“When are you going to ask her?” Fred asked, handing the ring over to George.

“I’m waiting for her to ask me,” George replied confidently. Fred snorted.

“That’s what I said to Hermione.”

George pointed to his temple. “You know what they say Freddie. Great minds-”

“-and great looks,” Fred finished.

“Our anniversary is in August, but that seems too obvious. We’re moving into a flat in two weeks. I thought I’d try shortly before or after that,” George answered honestly. “What about you? When would you like me to hint to Hermione that it’s a good time to propose to you?”

“I don’t know yet. I know she thinks now is too early to get married. She only just agreed to move in here.”

George looked surprised. “I thought she hated this flat.”

“So did I.” Fred looked back toward George’s room where Hermione’s ring was now hidden. “I’ll ask when I know she’s ready. She’s not yet. How she could possibly still be resisting me after all this time is a mystery.”

“Yeah, real mystery,” George deadpanned. “I know Angelina thought it was a lie, but we really do need to go over the books today.”

Fred nodded with a grimace. “Yeah, I know we do, but there’s something I need to take care of first. I promised Hermione I’d stop by her place to check on Crookshanks. But I think I need to pay a visit to dear old mum first.”

George was highly aware of the edge that had crept into his brother’s voice. Draining the rest of his coffee, he nodded solemnly and announced “I’ll come with you.”

* * *

“Hello, mother!” Fred called out cheerily as he let himself and George into the Burrow. His parents startled at the breakfast table at the sight of their children. Yes, Fred and George did have the habit of popping by unexpectedly, but they had done so less and less lately. Summer was also a busy time for their shop and they rarely, if ever, found time to get away in the past.

“Fred! George!” Mr. Weasley said once he had recovered from his surprise. “Come, sit! There’s plenty for all of us!” He gestured to the food on the table.

George grimaced. “We’ve already eaten. Besides, I think this visit is going to be a short one.”

Mr. Weasley frowned. “What do you mean?” He looked back and forth between his two sons. George was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. Fred was grasping the back of a chair, his knuckles turned white.

“You were busy at the wedding last night, weren’t you, mum?” Fred asked. His voice was light but there was an edge to it.

Mrs. Weasley shrugged while scraping jam across her toast. “Well, I was the mother of the bride, dear. I had plenty to do. I noticed _you_ left early. You know, it’s really quite rude to leave before the bride and groom. Especially when the bride is your sister. I bet you left without so much as a goodbye to her, too.”

“Well, _I_ think it’s rude to try and set up your son with another girl when he’s at the wedding with his _girlfriend,”_ Fred spat. It was rare that he lost his temper. It was rare that he was anything short of jovial. He heard George shift from one foot to another behind him. Mr. Weasley frowned at his wife. Mrs. Weasley sputtered a little bit, her mouth opening and closing.

“I-I-I...Fred, how-I would _n_ ” she stammered.

“Oh, come off it, mum! You bet on the wrong lesbian horse. Imogene told me what was going on and _Ginny_ said you’d been planning this for weeks.”

Mr. Weasley’s frown deepened. “Molly!” he said.

“Yes, I did mention it to Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley admitted. “But I would never have tried setting you up with those girls if I knew you and Hermione were still together!”

Fred was prepared for all sorts of twisted logic from his mother, but this was a little much. “Why would you think we’d broken up?”

“Well, last time I visited you at the shop, you seemed rather cross,” Mrs. Weasley reasoned.

“Maybe I’m cross because my mother is being awful to my girlfriend, did you ever think of that?!” Fred exploded. Both of his parents jumped.

“Fred, please-” Mr. Weasley implored.

“Let me make something _very_ clear to you, mum,” Fred interrupted. “Hermione and I have been together for a while now and I _never_ plan on ending things with her. And I don’t mean that in a creepy stalker way, I mean that in an ‘I love this woman more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything before’ way. She’ll be around for a long, long time. So until you can be civil to her, I don’t want you coming around the shop anymore for any reason.”

Mrs. Weasley sputtered some more. “ _Fred!_ ” she cried out. Fred stormed out the back door, George on his heels. With two loud cracks, they were gone.

* * *

Summer passed slowly. George moved out and the world still turned. Hermione asked Fred if he wouldn’t mind if she moved in earlier than September.

“Mind?!” Fred looked at her like she was mental. “I’ve been keen to move in together for months now! Let’s go to your flat now and start the packing!” He stood up but Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him back down into his seat.

“Maybe we should wait for the waiter to come back with our dinner first?” she suggested. Fred went with her suggestion.

The next day, before he went to help Hermione begin packing, he stopped by Harry and Ginny’s new place with the ring.

“Guard this with your lives and don’t say a _word_ until you see it on Hermione’s hand,” Fred warned. Ginny grinned from ear to ear when she peeked at the ring.

George proposed to Angelina. She said yes, of course. Hermione moved in.

Settling into domestic life with Hermione was easier than Fred thought it would be. They were practically living together already before it had been made official. Two months into dating, Fred had given her a drawer and space to hang things. Touched at the gesture-and a little surprised that Fred had been the first one to go through with it-Hermione had cleared a drawer for him in her flat, too.

Fred thought that living with Hermione would be a big change. A welcome change, but still huge in all of its complexities and implications. Instead, living with Hermione was as simple and as natural as breathing. She had been right not to move in with him when he first asked. But now that she was here, Fred couldn’t see a future where they ever lived apart.

He was going to marry Hermione Granger one day. He really would. They would get married, move out of this flat, get a house next door to George and Angelina, there would be a swimming pool that connected their two back gardens, their kids would play together-

Fred’s eyes flew open. Kids. They had talked about marriage but they hadn’t talked about _kids_. Did Hermione want them? Fred thought he wanted them but if Hermione didn’t, he would respect that. Or maybe they could adopt? Wait, did Hermione even like children? She was always nice and sweet around Teddy, Victoire, and Dominique, but what if that was just an act? What if she actually hated them but pretended not to so as to be polite?

“Psst! Hermione!” Fred whispered into the dark. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Hermione grumbled crossly.

“You sound awake.”

“Fred, I love you, but you better have a good reason for this, or I will make you sleep outside.”

“What’s your opinion on children?” Fred asked.

Hermione yawned. “They’re alright, I suppose,” she answered. It was a vaguer answer than he’d been hoping for, but it didn’t sound like she hated the idea, so Fred would accept it for now. He settled back down in bed, curling his arm around Hermione’s waist.

Hermione sat up. “Wait,” she said, sounding more awake than she had a few moments earlier. “Was that your way of asking me if I wanted to _have_ children?”

“Er, maybe,” he admitted. Hermione turned on the bedside lamp.

“You’re asking if I want children at...” she looked at the clock beside her, “half-past one in the morning?!”

“It occurred to me that we’ve moved in together, we’ve talked seriously about marriage, but children had never come up as a topic.” Fred sat up, rubbing at his eyes and beginning to regret introducing this topic in the middle of the night. “Have you thought about it?”

Hermione sighed. “Right now, I’m thinking you might die childless, because I’m this close to hexing your bits off for waking me up at _half-past one in the morning._ ” Fred gulped and angled his hips away from Hermione, in case he needed to make a quick getaway. This was the wrong night for Fred to to go bed naked.

“I’m sorry,” Fred apologized. “I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“Oh, no,” Hermione warned when Fred reached to turn off the lamp. “You woke me up. We’re going to talk about this and you can start.” Sighing in defeat, Fred pushed himself to sit up.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Alright. I like the idea of having a family of my own one day, I admit it. Not anywhere near as big as the one I grew up in, obviously, but more than one. Maybe two or three. I want to raise them in a house next door to George and Angelina and their kids should they have any. I see the difficult stages that Teddy, Victoire, and Dominique go through but I also see the really exciting stages they go through, too. And I’d like to see all of those milestones with my own family. That is, only if _you_ want to have kids, too,” Fred amended quickly. “Then we don’t have to have any. It’ll be fine.” He hadn’t meant to put all of this out there into the open, but he found once he started talking, he just couldn’t stop.

Hermione looked at him dubiously. Then she sighed and leaned her head on Fred’s shoulder. “All of that doesn’t exactly sound like you’d be alright if I decided I didn’t want children,” she pointed out gently.

“I love _you_ ,” Fred reminded her. “I’d learn to get over it. I didn’t get into this relationship with the expectation that you’d be the incubator for my children. Though you have to admit, between the two of us, our children would be brilliant. Not to mention how good looking they’d be.”

Hermione snorted. “I love you, but I’m still mad at you for getting me up this late.” Fred kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We can go back to sleep now and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make up for it.” He turned off the bedside lamp and pulled Hermione back to lying down on the bed. He spooned her from behind, snaking an arm around her waist. Fred felt a hand close over his own, fingers tangling together.

“I’d like to have children one day,” Hermione whispered in the dark. “But not for another couple of years.”

Fred smiled against her back. “Really? Children? With me?”

“Well, it was going to be with you until you woke me up at half past one in the morning.”

* * *

When the first of September rolled around and things were quiet as they ever would be in the shop until Christmas, Fred approached Hermione with a question.

No, not _that_ question.

“Anything you’d like me to get you for your birthday?” Fred asked as he came into the flat. He rested his chin on the top of Hermione’s head and wrapped his arms around her waist. Hermione’s eyes never strayed from the stove.

“That’s not for another eighteen days,” Hermione reminded him.

“Exactly! It’s fast approaching! I have a few ideas, but I’d really like some input from you. Is that supposed to be that consistency?” Fred asked curiously. Hermione shook her head and removed the small saucepan from the stove.

“Let’s just pitch it and order takeaway,” Hermione decided, sounding frustrated. She vanished the contents of the pot before turning back to Fred. “You already have ideas for my birthday?”

“Of course! It’s the first birthday of yours we’ll have spent together as a couple. Can’t afford to mess it up. Is there any chance you could take off of work that day?” Fred asked hopefully.

“Except for my first year when my birthday was on a Sunday, and in 2001, I’ve _always_ been given my birthday off. Why, what were you thinking?” Hermione asked.

“I was thinking of getting some muggle money from Gringotts, taking you into Muggle London, going by the office supply store and the bookshop you like so much and let you spend to your heart’s content.”

With a straight face, but still a twinkle in her eye, Hermione looked into Fred’s eyes and said “I have literally never been more attracted to you than I am in this moment.”

Fred grinned. “Any chance you can take off for our anniversary next month as well? I have a few ideas.”

* * *

Tempers had cooled enough by Christmas for Fred to consider going to Christmas dinner at the Burrow, but he offered to skip it and spend Christmas with Hermione and her parents instead.

Hermione kissed him soundly when he said that. “I love you,” she said pulled back. She kept her arms wrapped around him. “But I don’t need you to do that. I am going to spend a quiet Christmas with my mum and dad and you and George are going to create plenty of chaos at the Burrow. With the help of your four and two-year- old nieces, of course.”

“I’ll miss you terribly the whole day,” Fred promised. He begun kissing down Hermione’s neck.

“Stop that,” Hermione gasped. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Fred grinned against her neck. “What a coincidence, so will I.” For a moment, he thought he had persuaded Hermione when she practically turned into jelly in his arms. But summoning up all of her strength, she pushed Fred away and turned her back to him, showing her unzipped dress, exposing her back, really not making this “going to work” nonsense easy.

“Zip, please!”

Fred pulled up on the zipper and encountered a problem halfway up. “Zipper’s stuck,” he muttered.

Hermione sighed in defeat. “I _knew_ it. I _knew_ I gained weight.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do know you _lost_ an unhealthy amount of weight a couple months back, so if you have gained weight, I’m happy that you’re back to a healthy weight again.” He pulled again and the zipper finally gave, going the rest of the way up Hermione’s back. “See? Stuck zipper.”

Hermione smoother down the dress with her hands. “Maybe it shrunk in the wash,” she muttered to herself. “Are we meeting for lunch today?” she asked Fred.

“Sorry, I can’t today,” Fred answered, sounding legitimately apologetic. “George and I are apparating into Hogsmeade around lunch. We’ve got an appointment to look at a place for a second Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. “Right! I had forgotten about that.”

They had originally wanted to expand back in Hermione’s sixth year, but with trouble brewing on the horizon and Ron getting poisoned on his birthday, the universe seemed to be telling them “this isn’t a good time to expand.” After the war, Hogsmeade took some time to build up again and the shop, successful as it had been before they went into hiding, also needed time to recuperate. But they had been doing well for years now and Hogsmeade was calling their names.

“Have you two worked out who will look after the Hogsmeade shop?” asked Hermione.

“Not yet,” Fred admitted. “If we get the shop, we have until March to decide. Besides, George and I make excellent decisions under pressure.” He helped Hermione into her coat and handed her her bag.

“Rebranding your procrastination, I see,” Hermione teased. She kissed Fred again quickly, not letting him persuade her into staying before bounding out the door, calling out a quick “I love you!” over her shoulder.

* * *

“Hermione?” Fred called out when he entered their flat later that evening. “I got a note from Dad when George and I got back. It’s about Christmas.” He removed his jacket and put it on the back of a chair. Hermione wasn’t on the sofa or at the table as she normally would be in the evening. “Hermione?” he called out. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want any?”

Fred had nearly filled the kettle when he heard retching from the bathroom. He slammed the kettle down and rushed to the bathroom, banging open the unlocked door.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he said soothingly, holding back Hermione’s hair from her face and laying his cool hands on the back of her neck. When Hermione had emptying her stomach contents into the toilet he helped her over to the sink so she could rinse out her mouth. Hermione sank to the floor, pale, weak and shaking. Fred retrieved the jumper of his that Hermione loved wearing from the bedroom. He helped Hermione out of her dress and into the jumper. He laid her head down in his lap and carded his fingers through her hair. She hummed contentedly at the feeling.

“How long have you been like this?”

Hermione frowned. “Two or three? I’m not letting Geraldine pick lunch for the office again.”

“Two or _three?”_ Fred repeated incredulously. “Merlin, Hermione! You should have told me! Have you eaten or drunk anything?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I managed to crawl to the kitchen for some water. But I threw the water back up again.”

Fred made some ginger tea and found something salty for Hermione to nibble on. He’d seen much smaller creatures take larger bites than Hermione took. But he’d take whatever progress he could get.

“Distract me, please,” Hermione pleaded. Fred resumed playing with Hermione’s hair.

“I got a note from Dad when George and I got back,” he said, repeating what he had said earlier. “He was wondering if we were coming for Christmas.”

“Of course you and George are going. Why would he think you weren’t?”

“No, when I said ‘we’, I meant you and I,” Fred clarified. “He said mum wanted to know.”

Hermione grunted. “Wanted to know which glass of wine to poison?”

“Well...I probably shouldn’t be saying anything, but it sounds like mum is making you a jumper,” Fred admitted. “Listen to this: ‘Your mother has started making the jumpers for Christmas and she asked if I knew whether or not you or Hermione were coming. She said she wants to make sure she has enough yarn to go around.’”

Hermione shifted in Fred’s lap. “I’ve never gotten a Weasley jumper. Not even before Ron and I dated.”

“Well, you might get one this year,” Fred said cheerily. “What if you go to your mum and dad’s and I go to the Burrow on Christmas Eve like we planned? Then on Christmas Day, you come over for lunch and presents? We can always pop back to your mum and dad’s after if you’d like.”

“Let me think about it,” Hermione said quietly. “Just distract me for now. Tell me about Hogsmeade. Are you going to get the shop?”

* * *

“Alright, I may have accidentally shrunk a few things in the wash again” Fred admitted on Christmas Eve. His jumper was now a few inches short on his stomach and arms.

Hermione sighed at the sight of him. “I can fix it before I go off to mum and dad’s,” she offered. “Take it off.”

Fred grinned at her cheekily. “My, my, Miss Granger! How forward!”

Hermione looked unamused. “Do you want me to fix your jumper or not?” she asked. She held out a hand for the clothing item.

“Would you believe me if I said my trousers needed adjusting, too?” Fred asked as he stripped his jumper over his head and handed it to Hermione. She sighed and frowned at the jumper.

“Your trousers are fine.” After muttering a few spells, Hermione handed the resized jumper back to Fred. “Try that on, it should be back to normal.”

“Are you alright?” Fred asked when he popped his head through. “You seem a little off today. Not filled with any Christmas cheer.” She had been sick a few more times that month. Fred suspected it had been more than he’d seen but she had tried to hide it from him.

Hermione, who had been staring off into space with a frown on her face, shook her head as if to clear it. She looked up at Fred and made an effort to smile.

“I woke up with a bad headache and it hasn’t gone away,” Hermione explained. She rubbed at her temple. “Sorry, I know it’s not an excuse.” Fred kissed the top of her head.

“It’s alright. So long as I didn’t do anything monumentally stupid. But I think you’d tell me if I had.”

Hermione huffed a small laugh. “Yes, I probably would.” Fred walked her over to the sofa and helped her sit down.

“Would you like me to make something for your headache?” he asked. “I have a remedy that’ll clear it up in no time at all. Then you’ll have to be without me for a full twenty-four hours. I don’t know how you’ll stand it.”

“I’ll find a way to rise above my sorrows,” Hermione deadpanned.

* * *

Fred woke up in his old bed in the Burrow on Christmas morning without Hermione but with the knowledge that she’d be there at lunchtime. She hadn’t come to the Burrow the previous year. The Grangers had opted to go to Paris for the holiday and Hermione and Fred still hadn’t told his parents that they were dating back then.

Hermione’s ring was constantly burning a hole in his pocket these days. If she hadn’t insisted on the two of them going to their respective family’s homes for Christmas instead of spending it just the two of them, he might have proposed on Christmas morning. There was still the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes New Year’s Eve Party. He wouldn’t ask her _at_ the party in front of everyone. Hermione wouldn’t like that. But he could ask her afterward. Or before they went down to the party. He wasn’t sure yet. He was too excited about it.

Thanks to an expansion that all the children helped with a few years ago, the Weasleys had a large enough dining room to accommodate Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, all seven children, Fleur, Harry, Angelina, both grandchildren, and Hermione.

Fred handed Ron a beer. “How’s it living with mum and dad again?” he asked, sitting down in the armchair across from Ron. About a month earlier, the building Ron’s flat was in caught fire, and a good portion of the building was burnt down. A couple of Ron’s things were able to be salvaged but most of it was lost. He’d been living back at the Burrow ever since.

“A lot quieter than when we were growing up here,” Ron said after some thought. “Dominique and Victoire are over here often enough. Not sure if I’ll still be here by the time the next one comes along,” he mused, nodding toward Fleur. The witch was getting ready to pop any day now.

“When does the Hogsmeade branch of your shop open?” Ron asked suddenly. Fred shrugged.

“Not until mid-March or so.”

“Who’s going to be running it? You or George?”

Fred pursed his lips. That had been a problem that he and George had been mulling over for several weeks now. “Right now the idea is that one of us goes for a few weeks to get the shop up and running and then we leave it in the care of someone we trust. We have time to figure it all out,” Fred said, trying to convince himself that this was true.

The door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Victoire came charging in the house, pulling Hermione along behind her. Fred grinned. When did Hermione get here?

“We made a snowman!” Victoire announced to the room. She released Hermione’s hand and clambered up on the sofa next to her very pregnant mother. Fred saw Hermione’s smile falter for just a moment. She was nervous, probably. Last time she was here, they had been accused of lying about their relationship.

Fred crossed the room in an instant. “You made a snowman and didn’t invite _me?_ ” he asked incredulously. “Come here.” He helped Hermione out of her coat and hat and then hugged her to him to warm her up. “When did you get here?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Bill answered for Hermione. He shut the door behind him, stopping the cold wind from coming in any more. Fred felt Hermione breathe a sigh of relief into his chest. “Victoire can be convincing.”

Mr. Weasley came into the room then, his face smiling wide when he saw everyone was in attendance. “You’re all here!” he said jovially. “Wonderful! Wonderful! Well, come on, lunch is on the table.”

Fred should have asked more details on how his mother had planned to treat and talk to Hermione while they were here. If he had known that Mrs. Weasley’s tactic for dealing with Hermione’s presence was to pointedly ignore her and not acknowledge her in any way, he wouldn’t have tried to convince Hermione to come. He held her hand and rubbed circles on the back of it with his thumb.

They would get through lunch, then as soon as they opened their presents from his parents, they could leave.

In retrospect, he should have confirmed with his dad that Hermione would _definitely_ be getting a Weasley jumper this year.

Hermione was staring down at the lumpy, uneven scarf, riddled with holes and not saying anything. Fred was seeing red and almost shaking with anger. He thought he saw Hermione’s chin wobble. Oh, that was it. They were _leaving._

Nearby, Mrs. Weasley was laughing at something Percy had said to her. Her eyes casted around the room and landed on Hermione.

_Oh, for once in your life, mum,_ Fred thought. _Don’t say anything._

“Honestly, Hermione,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you‘re going to be that upset over a present, you can just say you don’t like it. I wouldn’t have wasted time making it, otherwise.”

Hermione folded up the scarf, put it back in the box and stared down Mrs. Weasley with a cold stare. Fred felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. They shouldn’t have come.

“I’d rather you hadn’t bothered to make anything for me; seeing as you only use Christmas as an excuse to be a malicious, vindictive, vengeful, hateful bitch.”

The room fell dead silent. You could have heard a pin drop. Mrs. Weasley’s jaw dropped open in shock.

Hermione leapt to her feet, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m going. I’m going,” she said, wiping furiously at her eyes.

“I _would_ be going if I were you. If you’re going to speak to me that way in front of my family and use such vile language in front of my grandchildren!” Mrs. Weasley hissed.

“You’ve had it coming, mother,” Fred snapped. “I’m leaving, too.” He threw his jumper on the ground and walked with Hermione to the door.

“Angelina and I will be by with your things in an hour. Give you two some time,” George promised. He and Angelina pulled their jumpers off and tossed them on the ground with Fred’s. As they began to ascend the stairs, Percy pulled off his jumper.

“I think I’d best be on my way, too,” he decided. Mrs. Weasley started to gather up the jumpers.

“You don’t all have to leave,” she said desperately. “Christmas isn’t over, yet!”

Bill and Fleur began to gather up their things and their children, their jumpers being discarded as well. Harry and Ginny followed suit.

They all left together, only leaving behind Mrs. Weasley with her arms full of jumpers, Mr. Weasley looking mortified at his wife’s actions, and Ron, sitting on the sofa looking absolutely defeated.

* * *

“I’m done with her,” Fred said when they got back to the flat. They were sitting on the sofa, Fred holding Hermione, her face buried in his chest. She wasn’t crying but he was certain it wasn’t far off. “I am serious. I am _done_. As far as I am concerned, I have no mother. I’ll change my last name.”

“Weasley is your father’s name, not your mother’s,” Hermione pointed out. Ah, true. His mother hadn’t _always_ been a Weasley.

“Well I can promise that I will never speak to her again and you will never have to speak to her again. I shouldn’t have made you come there. I’m sorry,” Fred apologized for what felt like the thousandth time. “You were acting different for a while now and I should have realized you were stressing over Christmas.”

Hermione shook her head. “I wasn’t stressing over Christmas. I mean, I was,” she admitted. “But I was actually stressed out over something to do with us.”

Fred went stiff. “Us?” he asked in a small voice. Hermione gasped and pulled back to look at Fred in the eye.

“Oh, no, not like that,” Hermione rushed to explain. “ _Nothing_ like that. It was…well… _accio wine_.” The wine bottle sailed across the apartment and into Hermione’s hand. Two glasses soon followed.

“Remember how I was sick about two weeks ago?” Hermione asked. Fred nodded. “Well, it occurred to me after I vomited at work one day that my monthly was late.” Fred’s eyes went wide. Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

“But I wasn’t sure and I was too afraid to take a test because I didn’t know if I wanted that test to read positive or negative. I didn’t know if _you’d_ want the test to read positive or negative and you and George have been so busy at the shop and working out details for the new shop that I didn’t want to say anything unless I knew for sure. And then Ginny told me she was expecting when we were shopping for Christmas presents.”

Fred reeled at this new information. “Ginny’s what, now?” Hermione’s face paled.

“Oh, no!” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “She was supposed to announce that to everyone at the Burrow and I called your mother a _bitch_.”

“You called her a bit more than a bitch, but that doesn’t matter,” Fred reminded her. Hermione gave him a look that let him know he was _not helping._

“Don’t tell Ginny that you know. Act surprised when she says it,” Hermione instructed.

“I will,” Fred promised. He looked at the wine in Hermione’s hands. “Wait, are you supposed to be drinking that?” he asked.

“I got my monthly on Christmas Eve,” Hermione admitted. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you that I thought I might be pregnant, or decide for myself if I was really ready for it to happen, and the universe decided for me.” She sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing I never told you. I would have made your worry over nothing.”

Fred took the wine glass out of Hermione’s hand and put it down on the coffee table next to his. He took both her hands in his. “For the record, if you had been pregnant, I would have been happy about it. You could have told me. Next time you think you’re pregnant, I want you to tell me. It’s my baby, too.”

The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Next time?” Fred looked affronted.

“You’re telling me that you’re going to let one pregnancy scare turn you off of sex?” Hermione snorted. “Seriously, Hermione. I love you. I want to be with you and I’d like to have children with you when _you’re_ ready to have them.”

“It just seemed like bad timing,” Hermione explained. “You have the new shop opening in Hogsmeade-”

“George and I would have managed.”

“-this place is too small for a nursery-”

“We can find a house.”

“-we’re not even _married._ ”

“Children born out of wedlock aren’t a crime. But we can fix that easily.”

Hermione smiled and kissed Fred. “Don’t say it unless you have a ring on you.”

Fred stilled. “Well…”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Technically I always have it on me,” said Fred. “If I have it on me, then I know you won’t accidentally find it. Ginny had it hidden for a while but I got it back from her last month.”

“ _Ginny_ knew you had a ring?” Hermione said incredulously.

“And now I know that she’s pregnant. Circle of life, darling.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, that’s not what…never mind. Is this you asking me or are you just telling me that you have a ring?”

“I can make it official, if you’d like,” Fred offered. He stood up, fished the ring out of his pocket, and got down on one knee. “Hermione, I was working on a whole speech, but it all sounded absolutely horrible. I tried to get ideas from some of the romance novels you have in your collection, but I was worried that all I’d get out of _that_ speech was an accusation of plagiarism. So, I decided to come right out and ask. Will you-mph!” Fred was silenced by Hermione’s lips crashing on to his. After a few intense moments, they pulled apart, panting heavily.

“So…” Fred said slowly. “Is that a-?”

“Yes, it’s a yes,” Hermione confirmed. She was smiling and crying happily. Somehow, with shaking hands, Fred managed to slip the ring on to Hermione’s finger. They were cuddled up on the couch, drinking their wine and talking vaguely about wedding plans when a knock sounded at the door an hour later.

Fred opened the door to George and Angelina. They had Fred’s things, a bottle of wine, and what looked like bags of takeaway. “We have food if you’re up for company and we can bugger off if you’re not.”

“We should also mention that Harry, Ginny, Percy, and Bill are in the stairwell with more things but they’re waiting to see if Hermione’s up for company,” Angelina added.

“Oh, come on in, all of you,” Hermione called out from the couch. She went into the kitchen to get plates, cutlery, and glasses for everyone. It didn’t take long for Ginny to spot the ring on Hermione’s finger and let out a shriek.

“You finally _asked?!”_ she exclaimed, grabbing Hermione’s hand to examine the ring closer.

George gave his twin a look. “I had no idea that Hermione calling mum a bitch would put you in the mood to propose. We should have gotten the two of them in a room together months ago.”

Hermione flushed red. “Can we all _please_ forget that I said that?” she pleaded.

“I’m not forgetting it,” Angelina said happily as she looked at Hermione’s ring with Ginny. “Molly had it coming. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped before now, actually.”

“I’ll forget what you said if you want me to,” Percy promised. “I don’t blame you for what you said to my mother. After everything that you have done for this family, she should be grateful for you. Not resentful.”

“I second that,” Harry called out, raising his glass. “When’s the wedding?”

“We don’t know yet,” Fred answered. “But we can go over the guest list: everyone in this room, plus Fleur, the kids, Audrey, Charlie, and Ron. Hermione’s parents. Dad is only invited if mum doesn’t come with him. Am I missing anyone?” he asked Hermione. She shook her head.

“We agreed that we want a small wedding before everyone showed up,” she said to the room. “At this point, I’d be happy to get married in a courthouse anytime from next week to next year.”

Fred looked thoughtful. “I mean…we _could_ do next week, if you were serious.”

“And our New Year’s Eve party could double as your reception!” George exclaimed excitedly.

“I’ll discuss it with my fiancé and let you know,” Hermione promised her soon to be brother-in-law. Fred preened at that word. _Fiancé._ And before too long, he'd be Hermione's _husband._ Something good came out of this day after all.

A knock sounded at the door. Everyone looked around at each other, wondering who it could be. For a moment, Fred worried it could be his mother. Bill was the one who checked through the peephole. He opened the door.

“Hello, Ron,” he said. Ron sheepishly came inside with a bag on his shoulder.

“Thought you’d all be here,” he said. “Celebrating something?” he asked, taking into account all the food and wine. Hermione flashed him the engagement ring. Ron grinned.

“Congratulations, you two!” He hugged Fred, clapping him on the back.

“Thank you, Ron,” said Hermione. “Why do you have a bag? Are you going on an assignment?”

Ron shook his head and put the bag down on the floor by his feet. “This is a little awkward, but I was hoping one of you might have somewhere I can stay. I won’t be there long, I promise. I just couldn’t stay with mum anymore.”

Everyone nodded in sympathy and understanding. George, Harry, and Percy each offered him a place to stay.

“Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I have another awkward thing to ask,” said Ron. He wrung his hands together and rocked back on his heels. His eyes kept darting between Harry and the twins. “The Hogsmeade store of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. I’d like to submit my name for consideration for running the place.”

Fred and George nearly spit out their wine. Harry didn’t seem shocked. Percy sputtered.

“But-but-what about your job? You’re an Auror!” he exclaimed.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, Perce. But I haven’t been happy at that job in a while. I’m handing in my notice. When I heard Fred and George were finally opening up another store, I got the idea in my head: why not go into the family business? Neither one of them want to be separated from each other, one running the Diagon Alley shop, one running the Hogsmeade shop. If I run the shop, it’s still a Weasley running the show.”

Fred and George looked at each other, thinking over Ron’s proposal. “It would solve a lot of our problems, Freddie,” George reasoned.

“We can’t just hand him over the reins just like that,” Fred countered. He looked Ron up and down. “Let us know your last day of work as an Auror. You can come train in the shop and then we’ll decide if you have what it takes to run a Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” he decided.

Ron looked equal parts relieved and happy. “Thanks Fred, George. I won’t let you down, I promise.” He accepted a glass of wine from Bill and sank down into a chair.

“What happened after everyone left?” Ginny asked curiously. “Last I saw, dad looked like he wanted the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.”

“Well, the Earth didn’t swallow him whole, but he did decide to disappear out to his work shed after a while,” said Ron. “Then mum started ranting and raving and saying all the usual things about Hermione. I’ve told her to knock it off before, but this time I snapped. I yelled at her. I really, properly shouted at her. I told her how Hermione was the only reason that Harry, Fred, and I are alive today. I told her that _I_ was actually the one to broach the topic of breaking up. I told her that it was stupid of her to hold a grudge against Hermione. I told her that I had gotten over Hermione long ago. I told her that the only one bitter about Hermione and Fred dating was _her._ That anyone with eyes could see that they had been in love for years and that if I hadn’t given them a nudge in the right direction, they still might not be together-”

The room erupted into a flurry of noise.

“What?”

“-for _years?_ ”

“You’re joking!”

“What do you mean-?”

Ron looked sheepish. “Ah,” he said. “I forgot I hadn’t told you that story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set out to make this a one chapter deal when I first got the idea. Then it was only supposed to be three chapters. The big blow-up was supposed to happen at the wedding, but I decided to delay it until Christmas. But then this chapter got bigger and I knew I had to write a fourth chapter. The fourth chapter is mostly written down and is also a MONSTER. So I'll need a fifth chapter to conclude the narrative.


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